


The Dark

by TouchingOldMagic



Series: Ghostbusters 30 Day Challenge [22]
Category: Ghostbusters (Video Game), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: Dark fic, Gen, Thinking Outside the Box, Video Game spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24994129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TouchingOldMagic/pseuds/TouchingOldMagic
Summary: Day 22 of the Ghostbusters 30 Day ChallengePrompt: Screencap RedrawIt's dark and he can't move and it wants his soul...
Series: Ghostbusters 30 Day Challenge [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779643
Kudos: 6





	The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Well I had to think outside the box for this one. I decided to redo a scene I liked and put a bit of my own spin on it. Spoilers for one of the last levels of the 2009 video game.

The dark.

"Stop, please."

_Stop what?_

A prickling sensation across his chest, then a sharp pinch, like a needle just above his heart. He gasped. "Hurts."

_Your pain is needed._

The piercing sensation became a jet of agony, joining with a myriad of other aches across his body. He felt like his fingernails were being pulled, his arms separated from his shoulder blades, his neck forced back to an unnatural angle.

The pain at least brought with it a clarity of thought. He felt more connected to his body now, realized he could try to move but was restrained. Not bound or tied up, but somehow completely held immobile over his entire body. Including his face. He now realized he had not been speaking out loud, but something had been answering his disjointed thoughts regardless.

This was very unnerving.

His blindness and inability to move were creating a sensation not unlike sensory deprivation. The pain and his emotional reaction were making concentration difficult. To combat the effects, he attempted to reminded himself of the equations he had been working on at HQ before this incident started. Ray and the Rookie had, as far as he was aware, evaded capture. There was no need to panic. Yet.

His mental catalog was interrupted by a faint sound on the edge of his hearing. As it was the only focal point he currently had, it wasn't difficult to bring his focus to bear on it. The sound terminated, then came again. A few beats later, he heard it again, louder. It had the regular cyclical pulse of machinery but was not being deployed in a continuous or patterned fashion. Most likely, therefore, a machine wielded by a human being. From there his scattered thoughts easily leaped to the obvious: it was a machine he knew very well.

It was an immense effort to speak. His thoughts were becoming more cohesive, and he knew his radio was still on. Whether or not it could broadcast inside his confinement was uncertain, but the only way to test the theory was to speak.

It was very disconcerting that it took several seconds to remember how to try.

Finally he was able to cough. He felt his throat constrict, heard the sound. He took a shuddering breath and forced the words out, "I can hear my equipment, and it appears to be getting louder. I believe you're approaching my location." His words echoed slightly and he still couldn't see anything, giving the impression that he was at the bottom of a very deep, very small hole.

Then there was nothing to do but wait in the dark. The elation wore off surprisingly quickly.

A crack of brilliance suddenly split the universe like a shaft of lightning, then widened. Squeezing his eyes shut against the glare did little to help; he could feel tears of pain slide down his cheeks as his eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness. Before he could get control of himself, he was ejected from the tomb that held him. He slumped forward, tried to catch himself but lost his balance. His knees hit the metal floor hard enough to jar his patellas.

"Egon! You okay?" Winston's voice hovered over him. He still couldn't see, but he could hear the sound of one other body moving, to his immediate left. That wasn't good. There should have been four. Wait, Ray was on the ship. Only three, then. Where was Peter?

Waving off Winston's offered hand, Egon pushed himself up to his feet on his own, bracing his hands on his thighs. He squinted until his eyesight adjusted and their dim surroundings came into focus. They were still underground. Automatically he checked his pack; it seemed unharmed from his incarceration. Then he squinted at what he had just fallen out of.

It was some sort of combination of biological and mechanical. It appeared like an alien version of an Egyptian sarcophagus. A machine created by the will of the damned.

Their Rookie employee stood next to him, hand still raised in front of the machine as if he had just released Egon from its insides. He shook his head at the machine with an expression of disgust.

"I believe they were designed to drain the soul of a person in order to feed a larger infernal device," Egon croaked. He vaguely remembered a voice, maddeningly calm, speaking to him.

"Sounds cheerful," Winston deadpanned. The Rookie raised an eyebrow at him, causing the ex-marine to shrug. "Someone's gotta fill the sarcasm quota until we find Peter."

Egon straightened, drew a full breath into his body and was encouraged when the movement didn't bring any new pain. "Yes, we should hurry," he said.

"Peter has already rescued himself, thank you," a voice announced from ahead and above them. Relieved, Egon craned his neck and saw his last teammate coming down a metal scaffolding from another level. The architecture here was truly astounding.

"Take your time, no need to hurry," Peter snorted at them. "My soul sucker was running low on juice." He tipped the end of his thrower over his shoulder, back the way he had come. "Or something."

"Well they don't run very well if you've got no soul to suck out," Winston pointed out.

"Ha ha." Peter tipped an imaginary hat at Winston in acknowledgment of the verbal hit.

"Gentlemen, if we could finish this and go home, please," Egon directed. Next to him, the Rookie nodded his head eagerly.

"Right," Peter agreed. He hefted his thrower. "Let's get out of this cesspit and back to the cesspit we know and love."


End file.
